All That You Can't Leave Behind
by Sophyia
Summary: An extensive story on Damar's relationship with a human woman amidst the horrors of the Bajoran occupation. Includes many characters from DS9 and TNG. Rated M for possible violence and adult themes.
1. Prologue

_Note: This story takes place during and after the occupation of Bajor. Some characters are fictional, some are known Star Trek characters (and thus owned by Paramount). It mostly follows the DS9 and TNG storyline, but some changes are made to suit my crazy needs. :) This story will be updated every week._

**All That You Can't Leave Behind**

_This is my story. An introduction is in place._

**Chapter 01 - Prologue**

My name is Susanna Ishan Cusack, adopted daughter of Ishan Chaye, biological daughter of Sophya Cusack. Medical examination shows I was born in april 2346, the year during which Terok Nor became operational. My mother was human, as was my biological father though no records were found of him. Out of respect for my Bajoran father I continue to carry his family name.

It is unknown how I came to live in the Bajoran sector, but a notebook Chaye left before he died states that he met my mother on Terok Nor. They engaged in some kind of relationship and after three months she disappeared, leaving me behind at the age of four. I spent most of my life aboard the station under the care of Chaye, until he was excecuted in 2366, after being wrongfully convicted of attempting to assassinate Gul Dukat, at that time Prefect of Bajor. Two months after his death I finished designing a control that would sabotage cranial implants used by members of the Obsidian Order. This device was smuggled off the station, only to be captured by a Cardassian military order. Under pressure of torture, my friend Marat Dane, confessed the designer of the control and I was arrested the same day.

I was imprisoned in what I would later learn was the former Gallitep labor camp, that was reopened after it's liberation by the Shakaar Resistance Cell in 2357. Amongst inmates, this camp was known as Boryhas, or spirits of the dead. This is what most of us became, and those who survived would continue to feel like.

This is my story.

-- --


	2. Dane

**All That You Can't Leave Behind**

_Life on Terok Nor is hard, and the Cardassian oppressors aren't the only enemy. Susanna is offered work by a young Bajoran, but at what price?_

**Chapter 02 - Dane**

Chaye sent her to off to stand in the line for a meal and warned her that if she didn't return with something in her stomach he'd made her eat his shoes. Of course that was a joke since the workers aboard Terok Nor that actually owned shoes were sparse and Ishan Chaye certainly wasn't one of them. Nonetheless, Susanna knew he was right since she also missed the servings yesterday and two days without food were beginning to take it's toll on her already malnourished body. But she hated the line so fiercely that sometimes she'd run off before even getting close to the stand where the watery substance that was provided as food was served in large bowls, adding to the illusion one could fill one's stomach with it.

She wasn't Bajoran and it made her appearance on the station stand out. She knew some people whispered if perhaps she had the distinct Bajoran nose ridges surgically removed to escape the violence of the Cardassian occupation and those rumors had gotten her into more fights than she cared to remember. The irony was that most Bajorans she met were as hostile to other races as the Cardassians were to them, only they didn't seem to realize that it hardly mattered to the Cardassians if you were a Bajoran or not. You were destined to suffer the same cruel faith if you were a sympathizer, ridges or no ridges.

As she tried not to let the rotten smell and hostile vibrations that hung around the group of waiting people permanently get to her, she shuffled another inch forward. She looked ahead to the end of the line where a Bajoran man place himself in front of the table, looking down, waiting for his bowl to be filled and handed over to him, then hurried off into the darkness of one of the corridors.

Thirteen seconds. Thirteen seconds between the first step he made towards the table and the first step he made when leaving it. Sixteen seconds if he was a woman, as she learned. They may not notice it, but those in charge of serving food consequently took three seconds longer to serve a woman, than they did to serve a man. She had observed the line many times, either while standing in it or from a distance, and always there was a pattern. Amidst the chaos of this station, it's inhabitants and it's oppressors, there was order.

Her eyes trailed over the group of people in front of her, in her head aligning them, women left, men right. Seventeen men, twenty-one women. And before the next man took his bowl, and the line shortened another inch and another thirteen seconds her calculation was done. Fife-hundred-forty-four seconds before it was her turn, and she started counting.

Ishan Chaye stretched his back, whilst keeping an eye on the Cardassian officer in charge that day. He'd seen him beat down several workers already for minor infractions and it seemed he was in an irritated mood today. Regardless of the grueling workload and the unpredictable brutality of the Cardassians, Ishan was lucky to posses engineering skills that kept him away from the dreaded ore processing centers. He reached for the coil spanner and tried to ignore the pain in his back, knowing that it would take him another few hours or so before he got the third docking ring thruster working smoothly again. It was ironic, he thought, that this damn thing refused to work properly. The docking ring thrusters helped the massive station remain in stable orbit around Bajor, and it was the fourth time this month that he had to recalibrate it. A smile appeared on his worn face as he wondered if perhaps this station was more eager to break orbit with Bajor, than the Bajorans were to get rid of it.

- "Ishan…". The sudden sound of a whisper disrupted his thoughts and he looked to his right, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness after staring at the illuminated workstation for too long.

- "Ishan!"

- "Yes, I'm here. I'm here. Rosan?", he asked, knowing his friend was working on the other station.

- "I can't hold my spanner properly, can you give me a hand?"

Ishan sighted and looked around him to see if no one was watching him before moving towards Rosan slowly. He took the coil spanner from him and adjusted the pathways he was working on. He saw Rosan looking down from the corner of his eye, ashamed that he asked for help again. When Ishan was done he handed the spanner back to Rosan, and before he moved back to his own station, shortly lay his hand on his friend's shoulder.

He was worried about him, Rosan, who was suffering from an infection in his right hand and was simply unable to perform certain mechanical tasks with the required precision. Ishan helped him out whenever he could, but the workload was getting too much for him and he didn't know any other technicians that would care to help him out. He did know however, that if the Cardassians would find out Rosan was essentially useless as an engineer, they would reassign him to the ore processing centre, or worse, simply execute him.

Susanna took the bowl and looked around to see if there was a quiet place she could sit down. A few weeks ago she made the mistake to eat her meal at one of the round tables provided, when three older boys demanded the food from her. This wasn't uncommon, when hunger struck, loyalty was far to be found and everyone fended for themselves.

She sat down behind a stack of containers and was about to begin eating when she felt eyes staring at her. Carefully she looked up and felt the blood drain from her face as she saw a boy approaching her, his eyes fixed on her. Automatically she clasped the bowl a little tighter but she knew this was a hopeless situation.

The boy moved closer to her, then sat next to her, his eyes still locked on to her. What's taking him so long? she thought as she began to feel more nervous. She looked slightly to her right. He was tall, though he couldn't be more than a few years older than she was. Was he waiting for her to hand over her food willingly? She may not be a match for him, but she surely wouldn't let this go without a fight.

- "What do you want?", she asked him as she tried to put some strength in her voice. He looked back at her with a light smile on his face and moved a little closer.

- "Can you work?"

- "What do you mean…?". She was surprised by his question and cursed herself for her weak reply but she couldn't think of anything else to say. He looked her sharply.

- "What I mean is, can you work?" There was sarcasm in his voice and he was noticeably irritated.

- "Of course I can."

- "Meet me here tonight then. Twenty-two-hundred hours sharp.", he said as he stood up.

- "Wait!", she got up and nearly dropped her bowl. "I don't understand. What kind of work? Why me? And…"

- "Clean up crew.", he interrupted her. "And why you?". He smiled. "Because I need something other to look at than dirty dishes and spoon heads." That last remark stung, and Susanna gave him a angry look.

- "And I suppose you're so important that you can pick your own crew?", she said arrogantly as she straightened her back.

- "I have my ways. Take it or leave it. But I can assure you there are far worse things than being on my side."

He turned around and walked away. Susanna stared at one of the containers for a while. Work wasn't easy to come by on the station, especially not for a woman and especially not work that didn't involve some Cardassian pig breathing the smell of kanar on you while stripping you naked. Though this boy's conceited manner made her sick, he might be her only chance to escape the steel fences surrounding the Bajoran sector of the station and perhaps even make some latinum.

She only hoped Chaye would be back before that time.

Marat Dane strolled along the fence until he caught sight of a Cardassian officer. With his spoon he rattled the fence, a seemingly innocent gesture that never incited any suspicion. The Cardassian officer turned his head around, and upon seeing Marat he walked towards the fence.

- "What is it?", he asked while looking the other way.

- "I need to add someone to my crew. Starting tonight", Marat whispered.

- "How interesting. Stop wasting my time.", the officer replied sharply. Marat smiled. He loved Cardassian efficiency.

- "She's strong. Hard worker, I know that. And not an unpleasant sight either. Let her work on my shifts and you can have a little fun with her as well. After work hours that it."

- "You're a disgrace to your people Marat." The Cardassian officer grinned and pulled a work card out of his right pocket. He slipped it through the fence and as Marat took it he held it tightly and looked at the boy.

- "A disgrace.", he repeated, smiling, and let go of the card.

- "I know."

Susanna was getting nervous. It was a quarter to ten and Chaye was no where to be found. She knew he was working on the docking ring today but normally he was back around nine in the evening. She looked around the compound until she spotted a young man.

- "Jilan", she said as she touched his shoulder softly as not to startle him.

- "Ah Susie!". He knew she didn't like to be called that, so he chuckled every time the young girl would give him a chance to do so. Tonight however she didn't give him one of her infamous frowns, and she seemed to be in a hurry.

- "Do you want to sit?", he asked as he moved over a little.

- "No, no thanks. I was just wondering if maybe you've seen Ishan?"

- "I'm guessing he's still working. Don't worry about him, he's probably just running late. From what I've heard the spoon heads are getting a little irritated with that thruster failing more often than it's working so I don't think they'll let him off before it's fixed." Jilan was an engineer himself and he knew how long work shifts could last when something was malfunctioning.

- "Yeah, I guess..", she looked to the fence where she was supposed to meet the boy but he wasn't there yet. "Look, could you tell him I'll be gone for a few hours if you see him?"

- "Gone where?"

- "I have work.", she whispered and she couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm on the cleaning crew, I'm supposed to leave at ten."

Jilan looked concerned but nodded in agreement. He promised Ishan he would keep an eye on her while he was working, but Jilan often disagreed with his over protectiveness. She was eleven years old, and unfortunately during these times, at that age you should be able to take care of yourself. Besides, there were worse things than working on the cleaning crew.

Looking behind him he watched the small figure walk away towards the fence. One thing did worry him though. How in the name of the Prophets did she get on the cleaning crew?...

--


	3. All That Glisters Is Not Gold

**All That You Can't Leave Behind**

_There are valuable lessons to learn from those you think have nothing to teach you. With gain comes sacrifice, but is what you've gained worth giving everything up for?_

**Chapter 03 - All That Glisters Is Not Gold**

Ishan Chaye grimaced as he bend his painful back to gather the last of his tools and put them in his toolkit. As he locked it he glanced briefly at the hatch that sealed off the controls for the docking ring thrusters and silently prayed for it to work properly for at least a few weeks. He was sick and tired of struggling with the ODN relays situated in the narrow conduit for sixteen hours a day, just to recalibrate equipment that should be working normally.

The problem wasn't, as the Cardassians accused him of, sabotage or lack of engineering skills. The problem was the fact that this military race of idiots didn't seem to grasp the importance of working as close to peak efficiency as possible. And because the Cardassians aboard this station, in particular their Gul Dukat, had such contempt for maintaining their station's systems, minor glitches occurred every day, leaving engineers like himself clueless as to where to look for the source of the problem.

He handed his toolkit over to the Cardassian officer and mumbled a soft 'goodnight' as he headed down the corridor. Ishan hated having to walk back to the Bajoran sector this late. Not just because he was tired after his long shift, but because the station seemed to transform into a dark, hostile cave at this hour. The sparse lights were dimmed, casting an intimidating shade on the rough Cardassian architecture. The corridors opened their jaws, revealing a seemingly endless, dark pit, and from them he heard soft whispers. Transactions. Women offering themselves. Four slips of latinum for a vile of triptacederine, a common analgesic. Young voices, too young to be here around this hour, in this cursed part of a damned station.

His pace quickened as he tried to escape the shadows, and ban the stream of miserable thoughts that seemed to wash over him like a flood every time he thought of anything other than ODN relays or flux couplers. Anything other than the things he could fix with his own hands.

As he approached the fence he searched for his work card, took it out and slipped it through the registration device without looking at the Cardassian officer holding it. He was secretly hoping his daughter would still be awake, though he argued with her often about her bedtime hour. She was a terrible insomniac, much like her mother, and when the sounds of the station woke him up in the middle of the night he found her way too often with a candle burning, scribbling on some paper she found, or reading an outdated technical manual he brought with him from work.

The thought of his daughter put a worried smile on his face. From the minute he laid eyes on her as a toddler, screaming all hell in the middle of the Promenade because she was bumped over by a few older children, she was the light in his life on this dark station. True, she gave him more worries that he ever had and could make him feel more miserable than any Cardassian, but it was the misery of loving someone so much they could silence you with a mere look.

As he walked over the Bajoran part of the Promenade, he headed for the turbo lift to the habitat ring, but stopped when he saw a hand waving at him.

"Jilan. You're up late." He said, changing his direction to meet with his friend.

"And you're back late." Jilan said, smiling. "Let me guess, they accused you of sabotaging a thruster and re-programming it to get the station on a ramming course with Cardassia Prime."

"Hardly."

"Ah…well…" Jilan feigned disappointment, but decided not to say more as his friend looked too tired for jokes tonight.

"I'm sorry Jilan. I'm exhausted to the bone, I didn't mean to sound harsh." Ishan touched his shoulder as he made an attempt to walk away.

"Wait, Chaye." Jilan turned around and halted his friend. "It's about Susanna."

The intonation of his voice made Ishan stop and he felt a nauseating feeling sink down in his stomach.

--

The sound of chiffon dresses distracted her while she was arranging the bottles on the shelves. Susanna looked behind her carefully as not to raise any suspicion. The number of Bajoran women were clad in colorful, bold outfits that stood apart from the jet black wardrobe of the Cardassian officers admiring them.

She'd been working non-stop for two hours now, cleaning plates, stocking bottles of kanar, and she was beginning to feel tired. She wondered how long they could keep this up, as she was sure all of these officers had to report for duty again the next morning. As she took another tray of empty bottles from the table and stocked them next to the others underneath the bar she couldn't suppress a smile. The amount of alcohol these Cardassians could consume and still be able to oppress a station full of people where they were outnumbered sixteen to one, was almost admirable. Seventeen bottles, she counted, with a 0.7 liter, 43 alcohol content. Seven Cardassians at an average weight of 200 pounds. She felt a rush, the way she always felt when her mind seemed to start to lead a life of it's own. Five-point-one liters of pure ethanol, point-seven-two per person, made it's way through the Cardassian bloodstream, heading straight for the frontal brain lobe. Enough to knock out an Algorian mammoth. But not nearly enough to keep a Cardassian officer from walking a straight line.

Her thoughts were disrupted by the clattering sound of plates being dumped on a table next to the party of people, and she moved around the bar to collect them. Targalian duck was served that evening, alongside other exotic dishes that she tried not to stare at while her stomach rumbled. Carrying the plates back to the bar, she slipped a few duck bones onto the floor and pretended to need something from underneath the bar. As she picked the tiny pieces of left-over meat from the bones and put them in her mouth, she cursed herself not to have worn something with pockets. Instead, she took the other bones and sticked them behind the elastic band of her underwear, hoping that if she didn't move to abruptly they'd stay in place.

"You!" Susanna had gotten up from behind the bar, and it took her a moment to realize the blunt shout was aimed at her. She looked up hoping she was mistaken, but the Cardassian officer shouted again. "Yes, you. Come over here." She felt her legs go weak with fear, and tried to think of something but she was completely blank. As she got from behind the bar, and shuffled towards the party, her eyes locked with one of the Bajoran women. Or was she a girl? The amount of makeup she was wearing left Susanna guessing.

"Yes sir…" she spoke softly. Perhaps he just wanted more kanar. But from the way he seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes on her, she wondered how much more he could take. He gestured with his hand for her to come closer, and she took a few more steps before she was almost within his reach. "Turn around. Go ahead, turn!" he slurred. She turned slowly. "You're very, very pretty. Very pretty indeed. It's a shame there's not more meat on your bones." He let out a drunk, roaring laugh and for a moment she though he was being sarcastic and perhaps caught her dissappearing behind the bar, as she felt the cold duck bones under her shirt sticking to her skin.

"Let me see your hair. You have very pretty hair, come on here." He tapped the inside of his thigh, as he grabbed her wrist and forced her to her knees in front of him. He stroke her hair roughly and uncoordinated, and bent forward a little to rest his other hand on her shoulder. "Very pretty indeed." He mumbled and he slid his hand down her chest, picking at her shirt.

She felt sick. Her legs were numb but her stomach seemed at war. She tried to breathe but the sickening smell of kanar only made the nausea worse. She felt her glands swell, the water in her mouth and tears came to her eyes as she tried to prevent what she knew was going to happen.

She brough her hand to her mouth and tried to back away, but it was too late. In one heave she covered his pants with the few bites of duck swimming in a pool of water and bile. Everything in her body hurt instantly, and she leaned on the floor, black spots flying around and a high pitched ringing in her ears. She didn't noticed that everyone around her, had burst out into laughter.

--

"Damn it, Jilan!" Ishan turned around before letting him finish his story and hurried back to the fence. "Officer!" He peered through the fence into the darkness to see if he spotted anyone but his tired eyes let him down. "Officer!" he yelled again as he rattled the fence. A Cardassian approached him, not seemingly in a hurry. "I need to get out. I…I forgot my work orders for tomorrow and it's important I read them." There was doubt in his voice, as he was never a good liar.

"Get some sleep Ishan, you can read your work orders tomorrow." Ishan was surprised to hear this Cardassian address him by his name. He squinted his eyes and looked closer. He knew him. Yes, he knew him! Two weeks ago he repaired the replicator in his quarters after his shift ended. He didn't have to do that, as he was only assigned to work on primary systems, but he figured it was never a bad idea to do any officers a slight favor.

"Rathel, please. Gul Rathel," he corrected himself not wanting to sound disrespectful. "I need to review them, it's very important." Ishan shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry. I can't let you leave. I have strict orders not to let anyone out after ten who isn't on shift or has other orders outside the section."

Ishan took a deep breath and rested his head against the fence. Gul Rathel looked at the man and turned around to walk away.

"It's my daughter…" Ishan knew he was taking a risk, trusting a Cardassian officer like this but he was desperate and didn't know what else do. Rathel turned around again. "While I was working, she left to work on the cleaning crew in the bar. You know what it's like there around this hour. She's only eleven…"

Rathel looked at him. Though he was a firm believer of the superiority of his people, he didn't share the feeling of hatred towards all Bajorans. He'd seen Ishan before, and he was one of those who accepted their place, working hard and never causing trouble. And he hadn't forgotten the replicator he fixed for him after work hours.

"My shift ends in an hour." Rathel took a few steps back towards the fence. "After that I'll drop by the bar and retrieve your daughter. That's all I can do for you."

"You do have very pretty hair, you know?" Susanna stared at her cup and didn't reply. The woman had taken her to the second level in the bar, wiped her clean and gave her a cup of something that she hadn't touched. "I'm Illiana." She said as she leaned back in her chair. "What's your name? How old are you?" Again, no reply came from the girl in front of her.

She guessed fourteen, maybe fifteen but it was always hard to tell as one of the side effects of malnutrition was distorted body proportions and she'd seen eighteen-years-olds looking five years younger than they were. Illiana rubbed her face, her thick layers of makeup starting to itch in the hot environment.

"I'm turning twelve this month." Her sudden delayed reply surprised Illiana. "Well then," she said half-smiling, "I guess you've beaten me to it."

Susanna looked up to the woman. She was dressed in a hideous combination of green and yellow, her red hair slightly wet with transpiration and her face almost looking like a clown with thick red lipstick.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little curious now.

"I was thirteen when a spoon head first laid his drunk hands on me." She smiled sarcastically. "I guess their standards have gone up. Or down, depending on how you look at it."

"You certainly seemed to have a better time than I'd expect from someone forced to do this." Susanna snapped. The emphasis on 'forced' and the patronizing tone with which this young girl spoke made Illiana sit up straight and stare at her with an ice cold look.

"Let me tell you something…whatever your name is. I have worked this bar since the moment it was operational. I've seen the quarters of Glinns, Guls and Legates, and endured the 'services' I had to lend to the Ferengi that owns this shit hole. Don't get me wrong, I take no pride in what I do but I am the only person that may judge me, for you may not know that everyone aboard this station benefits from the work I do. Especially my people."

Susanna looked surprised, but the tone with which Illiana spoke kept her silent.

"Yes. Don't be mistaken. I've seen Bajoran men, grown men no less, demand food from their people, sometimes even children and the elderly. I've seen them beat their wives out of sheer frustration and I've seen them steal and rape. They may call me a collaborator or a whore, but I take care of myself, providing me and my family with food, clothes and medication without hurting a single soul. And when these Cardassian officers let me out of their quarters after abusing me for the night, they're satisfied and in a jolly good mood. Every Bajoran man or woman serving their shift under their command that day, will benefit from that."

She took a deep breath and shifted on her seat.

"So call me trash, for eating their food and drinking their kanar so I can get through the night. But when my time comes, and I stand before the Prophets, They will know that I never hurt a living soul. And that I have sacrificed everything I was born with, my body, my soul and my dignity, to take care of those I love."

Illiana took her glass and downed it with one gulp. She stared into the reddish decor that was typical for this bar, and Susanna regretted the things she said to her as she realized that this woman was right. And that perhaps the real heroes of this occupation weren't the ones planting bombs or poisoning stocks of kanar.

They were both disrupted in their thoughts by the sound of deep male voice.

"Are you the daughter of Ishan Chaye?"

Susanna felt the pain in her body return instantly at the sight of a Cardassian officer, suddenly standing next to their table, but Illiana rose from her chair immediately.

"What's it up to you?" she asked boldly. Illiana knew this officer, he was what the girls referred to as a 'soft spoon'. Relatively gentle and less brutal than most of them.

Upon seeing Illiana, Rathel knew it was the young girl still sitting at the table he was looking for. He turned to her, as he tried to soften his voice a little.

"Your father asked for me to bring you back. He is concerned for your well being. This is no hour for a young girl to walk around here." The surprised look on Illiana's face didn't escape him and he nodded at her. " He did me a favor a while back and I'm returning it."

Susanna didn't seem to be able to think, speak, or run like hell for that matter. Their voices seemed to fade while a horrible ringing sound dominated her mind. Only after Illiana spoke to her more loudly, did she realize this Cardassian wasn't out to get her.

"He's ok, really kid, I know him." Illiana said as she held the girl's shoulders. Susanna stood up and looked at her. "Give us a moment, if you will." Illiana said smiling to Rathel. "Just a moment, and then you can take her." Rathel responded by taking a few steps back and turning around.

Illiana looked back to see if Rathel wasn't watching, and slid her hand in the pocket of her skirt, taking out an object wrapped in cloths. She lay her hand on Susanna's head, stroking her hair and her cheek and her gestures made Susanna nervous. "You're a very pretty girl. That, the bastard was right about. They like long hair, healthy hair. It makes them forget that we're starved prisoners, and that the only reason we're with them is because we have no other choice." She looked behind her again and – knowing the girl had no pockets – lifted Susanna's shirt and tucked the wrapped object behind the band of her underpants. Three duck bones felt out, and Illiana smiled.

"Don't worry about it. It's the least of your concern. You can't escape them, none of us can. But you can make sure you're not their first choice." She stroke her hair again. "Cut it. As short as you can." And as she pulled the shirt back down, she smiled while tears came to her eyes.

As Susanna walked a few feet behind the Cardassian officer back to the sector, she felt as if her body was made of tritatium and no one could hurt her. Something had changed but she wasn't sure what it was.

"Cut it. Cut it short." She thought as she rubbed the bump under shirt, knowing now what was in it.

--

Ishan tapped his spoon nervously against his chin as he checked the large chronometer hanging on the wall for what seemed the hundredth time this night. He'd seen Rathel turn over his orders to the Cardassian next on duty and they had exchanged a short look before Rathel turned around and left.

He had prayed she'd be alright, but to be honest he never had much faith in his prayers. He preferred the outcome of a situation to be in his control, not depending on some Prophet. He leaned back in his seat, still keeping an eye on the gate, and remembered how his parents once took him to a monastary when he was a child. He was raised in Rakantha province and his family were simple farmers, much like the rest of the province's inhabitants. Ever since he was a child, his father had tried every way to make him take more interest in agriculture, but Chaye was more fascinated by picking apart the equipment used for farming, than he was with the farming process itself.

Visiting this monastary was an important journey for the Ishan family, as they lived far away and there was little money for transportation. A Vedek traveling trough however, had found shelter in their farm and in return offered to arrange for them to visit the monastary. His parents being firm believers, were thrilled ofcourse. They weren't so thrilled anymore however, after they let him – he must have been a mere ten years old, he guessed – out of their sight for a moment and didn't stop to think of him when they heard the slide doors open to a chamber and a cry from a Vedek behind those doors. With a few commands to the control panel and the help of a flux coupler he carried around and a small chair to compensate for his hight, Chaye had managed to re-route the security protocol and force the door open. This wasn't just any chamber. It was the chamber every monastary had to secure valuable items, that weren't for the eyes of the general public.

Chaye shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he remembered the beating his father gave him for disobeying him, but a smile came to his face thinking of the words the Vedek said to him: You have a gift, Ishan Chaye. Use it wisely.

The fence made a rattling sound as it opened, and Ishan jumped up from his chair. Please, let it be her He maneuvered past the few bodies still present on the Promenade and headed for the opening. The sight of the slim figure in white nearly made him cry instantly. He ran towards her, crashed down on his knees and held her tightly in his arm.

"Prophets be blessed, I was so worried about you!" he took a deep breath to fight back his tears and loosened his grip. Grasping her shoulders he looked her in the face and a shock went through him.

This wasn't his daughter. This wasn't the daughter his kissed goodbye this morning before taking off to work. Who didn't want him to leave until he promised her to bring her another technical manual for her to read. Who smiled at him when he looked behind before going through the gate.

He took her face in one hand and forced her to fix her eyes on him, but the blank gaze he received only confirmed his worse fears. Something had happened. Something in that hellish bar had happened to her and had turned her already serious eyes into ice.

He looked up behind her to see if Rathel was still there – he'd completely forgotten about him – but the man was no where to be found. Then he looked around the Promenade in search of Ethel Lanthos, who had a medical degree but all he saw was shadows in the dark. Desperate, he turned to his daughter again.

"Susanna…" he whispered, not knowing what else to say. She smiled at him but it was a sickening smile. A smile that Cardassian officers gave you when they had you cornered. He was instantly ashamed of that thought and averted his eyes as he took her hand and escorted her towards the turbo lift.

--

In the dark of their densely populated quarters it was difficult to distinguish the bodies of those sprawled around, some on improvised beds, some on the floor. Susanne carefully navigated around them, careful not to step on any limbs as she made her way to the back of the room. She'd let go of Chaye's hand and he had made no attempt to hold it again. Some part of her knew it was perhaps appropriate to show some remorse, for worrying him like she did. But nothing came. She recalled an article she read some time back, about some Bajoran rodent who – instead of running or fighting when it was in danger – simply burrowed itself in the ground and stayed there until his attacker had moved on.

"_They may call me a collaborator or a whore, but I take care of myself, providing me and my family with food, clothes and medication without hurting a single soul."_

She moved to the small open space faintly lit by one of the wall-mounted lamps, where a large water bowl stood for washing and sank down on her knees.

"_But when my time comes, and I stand before the Prophets, They will know that I never hurt a living soul."_

She removed her over-sized shirt, took the wrapped scissors out from behind her skirt and stuffed it under the shirt. She looked at the heap of clothes for a moment. Now was not the time, as she felt Chaye's eyes burning in her back. She dipped her hands in the murky pool of water and stroke her neck and chest.

"_And that I have sacrificed everything I was born with, my body, my soul and my dignity, to take care of those I love."_

As if she was her own greatest lover, she slowly raised her hand behind her head and took out the wooden pin that kept her stubborn strands of hair confined. A cold shiver went down her spine at the sensation of soft hair falling on her back.

"_You can't escape them, none of us can..."_

--

_Author's note: This was a difficult chapter for me to write because I don't know if I'm pushing my limits, implying the possible abuse of a minor. Please do keep in mind I'm trying to show the Occupation as I believe it might have been based on my knowledge on the current way of warfare, not the idealised sitcom version Berman presented us with. That doesn't take away I eagerly await your critisism, as this still remains a difficult topic._

_The title is courtesy of the great William Shakespear, from The Merchant of Venice._


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